


a cool embrace

by syn0dic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, actually blood and somewhat graphic injury tw, except this time gasp the healer is hurt, hurt comfort, it's not that graphic it's just a lil icky if bone injury grosses u out sorry, leomari, marianne is a big spoon and you can fight me to the death on that, this was a ko-fi commission : ), waow very unpredictable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syn0dic/pseuds/syn0dic
Summary: marianne is injured. leonie gets her to an inn and cares for her. it's kinda soft with a little bit of that tendie sweetness in there.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund & Leonie Pinelli, Marianne von Edmund/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	a cool embrace

This wasn’t how Marianne had wanted her weekend to go. Not that she had especially high hopes-- she and Leonie had been sent alone, an idea that, to her, seemed so far fetched and silly that she had almost sworn at them, but they had reinforcements, the professor had said. There should be precious little that the two of them could not handle, the professor had said. Marianne was not an angry woman. She did not have it in her any more after all these years of war, and sorrow, and grief. But this, she thought, hissing through her teeth as she limped on her bleeding, broken leg, was the closest she’d get to seething.

The rain plunked against the canopy of the trees, and a clap of thunder reverberated through the hills.

“It’s not much further,” muttered Leonie, who was soaked to the bone, all of their supplies over her back and shivering from the cold as she supported Marianne. “Half a mile at most.”

“Half a mile,” repeated Marianne, a wave of dizzy nausea coming over her. Her leg was in pain-- but it felt so distant, so far away, so much like it was another body. Another her. The thunder, the lighting, the constant drip-drip-drip of rain plastering her bangs to her forehead. It all blurred together. Each step seemed as far away from her as the last, and then-- there it was. The dim, distant lanterns of the town they’d passed through earlier in the day. It was the greatest relief she had seen in years. Right then, Marianne could have kissed the lamppost or the first door they came upon. But she barely had it in her now to keep walking.

Leonie pushed open the door to the inn, the dry, warm air a relief, though the water began to dry upon their skin and leave them even colder before in mere seconds. Leonie stomped to the desk, panting only slightly, and pulled some gold from her pocket.

“We need a room,” she said, urgency clear in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said the young man at the desk, who was clearly not thrilled to be on the night shift, “but we’re out of rooms that would be suitable for you.”

“I’ll take anything,” said Leonie. “We need somewhere to rest, now, and we can’t make it any further.”

The man eyed Marianne, and then looked back at Leonie. “We’ve got one room.”

“We’ll take it,” said Leonie.

“It’s got one bed. I can get you extra blankets,” he said, and reached into the cabinet behind the counter and promptly foisted them onto Leonie, ladening her with an even more heavy burden.

“Thank you,” said Leonie with a grunt as she tried to balance the packs, the new blankets, and Marianne leaning against her. “Uh...where’s the room?”

“Down the hall,” he said, pointing with his thumb and handing her the room key. The two of them staggered together to the numbered door on the key, and Leonie opened it with a click.

It was a small room. The bed was small, too, probably only really viable for two people if there was no room for an apple to fall. But Leonie dropped their packs on the floor straight away, and helped Marianne onto the bed, and Marianne didn’t have the energy left to even raise her head.

“So…” Leonie paused. “Are you going to heal yourself eventually?”

“Faith magic usually can’t heal the one who casts it,” said Marianne softly. “I can’t heal this. We have to get back to Garreg Mach.”

“Wait, so…” Leonie paused. “Wait. You actually need medical attention. You can’t just--” she waved her hands-- “shwoosh it away?”

“That’s not--” Marianne sighed. “No.”

“I wish you’d said that sooner,” said Leonie, kneeling down and fishing through the packs, and getting the pitcher of clean water and a cloth. “I’ve got some pretty basic first aid stuff, just in case, and I think I could make a splint for the break pretty quick. Here,” she said, holding up a tin of salve and some bandages. “For the bleeding. I’ll get it cleaned out and wrapped, then splinted.”

“Leonie…” Marianne sighed. “You don’t need to help me.”

“Hm?” Leonie tilted her head. “You’re not going to make it back to the monastery in the shape you’re in. It’s either take care of you,” said Leonie, “or it’s stay here until you can find a way to take care of it yourself. I want to get back to the monastery as soon as we can and let everyone know we’re alright,” she said, sitting down on the side of the bed, “and maybe give Byleth a piece of our minds. But I have to get that leg taken care of first.”

Marianne stared up at the ceiling. It was the same daub and plaster of many inns. A cream color, criss crossed by spruce beams.

“Alright.” She hiked up the skirt of her dress along her left leg, and saw Leonie’s eyes go wide-- it was very bloody, Marianne thought with a wince, and she could tell, even looking at it from a distance, that it should hurt far more, which told her she was still running on adrenaline and panic.

But Leonie didn’t say anything. She instead reached for the pitcher and cloth, and gently began to dab away the sticky blood. Marianne stared at the ceiling. What could she say?

That she felt horrible about this? That asking Leonie for so much over the course of their friendship made her feel guilty?

“Leonie… I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden.”

“Huh?” Leonie looked at her with wide eyes. “No, no, no, you’re not a burden! I don’t know what made you think that, but we wouldn’t have made it through today without you. You saved lives, Marianne.”

“I--” she paused. “It feels like no matter what I do, though, I cause misfortune for someone else. Like this,” she said, trying not to look at the mangled mess of her broken leg.

“I think that’s more misfortune for you than me, Marianne,” said Leonie gently. “It really does look like it hurts quite a lot. And,” she paused, “I don’t really mind helping you when you need it.”

Marianne soaked in the silence, the two of them in rain soaked clothes on a strange bed after a horrific battle, miles and miles away from their distant homes, the only people the other knew for perhaps a hundred miles. But she could be comfortable in silence with Leonie. There was something about her that had always put Marianne at ease. Perhaps it was that Leonie had never expected much from her or bothered to play into the expectations of others herself. Or maybe it was just that she was one of the strongest willed, most courageous people Marianne knew. Or maybe it was that her hands, weathered even by arrows and lances and reins, seemed so kind with others.

“Thank you,” said Marianne, finally.

“Mhm,” said Leonie, stretching her shoulders above her head. “I’m going to splint and wrap it now. So brace yourself,” she said, holding up the linen. Marianne dug the crescents of her nails into the palm of her hand, looking out the window, at their packs, at Leonie’s orange hair in the firelight, anything to look away and distract herself from the new restraightening and bandaging of her leg. “There,” she said. “Maybe not the neatest work, but it should do. And here’s your pack. Go change into something dry, you’ll get a cold,” said Leonie, handing Marianne the tarp-covered pack. “I hope it’s still dry,” she added.

“Thank you,” said Marianne, teetering to her feet and steadying herself against the wall. “I-- I should be back in a moment.” She changed hastily into her dry clothes, which were plain and not nearly as pretty as her stylish, blue, feminine travelling clothes, but remarkably comfortable, and carefully lowered herself back onto the bed. Leonie had the same idea, she thought, since now, she was wearing some dry men’s training clothes.

“Well,” said Leonie, pitching her blanket on the floor, “good night.”

“Good night,” repeated Marianne back to her, laying on her side and elevating her leg. The only sound for a few minutes was the crackle of the fire, the soft thrum of rain against the roof, and the steady breathing of her roommate.

“Leonie?” said Marianne softly, her violin creak of a voice a soft lilt.

“Yeah?” said Leonie.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

“I don’t really want to impose.” Leonie hesitated.

“I’m worried it’s too cold on the floor.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m cold.”

Leonie rolled over, and looked up at Marianne, over the edge of the bed.

“Do you want my blanket?”

“I would rather have your company,” said Marianne.

“Are you sure?” Leonie said, her voice wavering slightly. “I...I mean…”

“I know.”

“Okay.” Leonie pushed aside her blankets and laid on the bed, next to Marianne. It was roomier than she had thought, earlier. She laid on her side, looking into Marianne’s brown eyes.

“Can I… can I hold you?” asked Marianne softly.

“Mhm,” said Leonie, inching closer, as Marianne put an arm around her shoulder. Her skin was still cool and clammy from rain, but smooth. Soft.

“Good night,” said Marianne, and she already seemed to be slipping off to sleep. Leonie reached up and pulled the blanket tighter over the two of them.

“Good night.”


End file.
